The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Working as a trade show model wasn’t exactly my dream job. I didn’t particularly like how it made me feel objectified and vulnerable. Girls being paid to prance around in skimpy outfits before the leering eyes of horny male fairgoers was most certainly belittling towards women. As a college student, it should have probably been below me to even consider such demeaning work, but hey—there was one upside to it. They paid me pretty damn well.

That was why I did it. I needed the money. And yes, of course I also did have the physical appearance they required for their “booth babes”. Tall, curvy, pretty face, you name it, I got it. That’s why they approached me at the mall and asked me if I had ever thought about trade show modeling. I had not. Maybe I should have turned down their offer right away as a self respecting woman, but the pay they promised was too generous to not even consider it.

So I agreed coming to their downtown office to watch their introductory video, then decide if I was going to do it or not. When I arrived, there were already a bunch of other girls waiting, apparantly applying for the same job. The recruiter, most obviously an “ex” trade show model judging by her appearance and age, welcomed and reassured us that there was a steady demand for girls like us, so we could all look out to be hired, if we chose to do so. I was relieved as I didn’t like the thought of physically competing with other girls about who was most qualified for being eye candy.

The intoductory video was as dull as expected, so dull that I kind of drifted off watching it. I vaguely remember seeing images of trade shows and hearing a voice explaining things, but when I suddenly realized that the video was over, it almost felt like snapping out of a dream. Around me, other girls yawned and stretched but surprisingly, I felt refreshed rather than groggy. There was already a line of girls at the front desk, where they had the contracts ready. I figured I’d just sign the paper and see how this would work out for me. After all, the job was well paid, trade shows were mostly out of town and with strange people whom I would never even meet twice in my life, so what was there to lose?

I patiently waited in line to sign up with BoothBabes Inc.. When it was my turn, the recruiter looked me over, smiled and checked several boxes on the contract form. As I hastily scribbled down my signature I could half make out labels on the check boxes saying “Doll Face”, “Bubble Butt” and “Big Boobies”. Satisfied, I found that all of them had been checked.

Over the next days, I found myself ever so often practicing the “moves” I’d need as a model. Basically, there was not much to the work except looking good and smiling happily, and every morning before going to class, as I was checking myself in the mirror, I put on my brightest, flirtiest smile, trying to wear it throughout the entire day.

I figured that it was probably a good idea to get used to the feeling of being stared at as well. After all, I usually dressed rather casually and even though getting a few looks here and there, I wasn’t exactly used to being eye candy for everybody around me to ogle.

So I got myself a short skirt, tight vest top and high heeled pumps and I practiced walking in them. To my surprise, It didn’t feel half bad to do so, even in public. Sure, I noticed some people staring, especially men, but even that felt kind of exciting and even reassuring in its own way. I wasn’t going to make a custom out of wearing revealing outfits in public of course, but it sure was interesting to experience it once. I would have had expected to feel more self conscious, insecure and even ashamed about it, but to say the truth, i felt pretty good. Maybe the new job wouldn’t be as bad as I had thought it to be.

My first assignment was for a company producing digital cameras, at some gadgetry trade show, to “brighten up our visitor’s days” as they put it. Once again, the BoothBabes people showed us attending girls a little video clip and once again, it bored me up to the point where I lost track of what was actually in it. It kind of made me wonder why they even bothered to show us stuff that we didn’t remember afterwards, but then again, maybe the other girls were more attentive than me.

We slipped into our uniforms, consisting of tight tops, short skirts, high heeled shoes and not much else. You know, the usual. One funny thing was, they even provided us with customized panties that for some reason had the company’s logo on the back. It was particularly funny since they hadn’t even bothered to put a logo onto any other part of the outfit and the panties would of course be hidden from the prying eyes of trade show visitors. It made no sense and I joked with the other girls about the sillyness of this whole assignment. Guests would see a bunch of hot girls, true, but we were only supposed to walk around and not even stay at our booth. There was no visible logo on us, we were not supposed to approach or talk to anybody, it did not make much sense.

But of course we would get paid handsomely, so none of us complained. Money was all we really cared about.

It took me a couple minutes to really get my walk right, a little more hip swaying than usual, back slightly arched to show off the goods. Happily smiling, almost flirting but not quite.

After a couple minutes of walking up and down the aisles, I suddenly saw a pen lying on the floor before me. It struck me that it was obviously a pen from the company that I was currently working for. It had their logo on it and of course it had no business lying there on the floor. I carefully bent over to pick it up, making sure to keep my legs as straight as possible. For the briefest of seconds, as I was reaching for the pen, I wondered if I should really be doing what I was doing, but somehow it felt very right. I took my time, attempting to move as gracefully as possible. Behind me, someone chuckled, someone whistled. I rolled my eyes but I had known that as a trade show model, being leered and whistled at would be part of my job.

So i put on my happy smile again, straightened up and turned around to offer the person behind me the pen. It was of course a man, and he was grinning widely.

“Thank you, hotstuff.” he said as he took the pen. I felt annoyed by his sexist namecalling, but as if on a reflex, winked at him as I said “You’re welcome sweetie.” It didn’t sound like me very much, but I wasn’t being myself at the moment anyway. I was doing a humiliating job, but it was still well worth the money...

What truly baffled me was the fact, that just after taking a couple steps, I found another pen lying on the floor. Once again, I felt compelled to pick it up, so once again I bent over for it, from the waist. Out of the corner of my eye I could see another one of the girls doing the same, obviously having spotted a similar pen. I kind of wondered, as I stood bent over and reached for the pen, if there was anything odd about us picking up these pens, or maybe about the way that we did it. My thoughts were, however, interrupted by someone going “oh my gawd” behind me, a female voice this time. I straightened up, slowly, and turned to offer her the pen. She took it, hesitatingly, and asked me if the company, whose name she knew for some reason before even looking at the pen, had actually hired us to flash people.

I didn’t quite understand what she meant by “flashing”, but I confirmed that yes, apparantly they had hired us to walk around and pick up pens.

“Oh, there’s another one!” I found myself blurting out and indeed, there was another pen lying on the floor a couple feet away, so I happily strutted over and bent at the waist to pick it up. Again, people cheered byhind my back and again, they seemed to know whom I was working for, but i still gave them the pens to help them remember.

There were many, many more pens and after a while I noticed that the “recruiter” lady from the BoothBabes Office was dropping them quite deliberately, all around the booth of our sponsor. At that point, I didn’t care any more, I had evolved a habit of bending over for dropped pens, it had become a routine, something I did without any conscious thought. Somehow I seemed to make people very happy with my work, some of them took pictures as it seemed, at least I often heared cameras clicking behind my back. I sort of hoped that those pictures would not circle around the internet or something, but who’d want to look at pictures from trade shows anyway?

The other girls were being just as eager about their assignment as I was and somehow, our booth—or rather the aisles surrounding it—were becoming a hit with the visitors. Some of the guys wanted to pose for pictures with us girls to which we of course happily obliged. Sometimes, just before they clicked their cameras, i would hear another click behind my back, of a pen hitting the floor, so I’d instinctively turn around and pick it up, ruining the picture. I’d apologized and they’d laugh, saying thank you for some reason.

In the end, me and the other girls had a surprisingly fun, satisfying day. Being admired and appreciated for our work didn’t feel so bad after all. The BoothBabes lady who had dropped the pens called us into a back room where she gratulated us for our good work. I felt proud having performed so well on my first day. Then she told us we’d even get to meet the CEO himself in a while who’d like to thank us personally, and I felt myself getting astonishingly excited at that thought.

“But first”, she said gesturning towards a tv on the wall, “please watch the instructional video.”